Memories of Angels
by ZekksGoddess
Summary: Darth Vader has risen from the ashes of Anakin Skywalker, his past forgotten. However, childhood dreams of an angel live on... updated 5.18
1. Chapter 1

**_Memories of Angels  
_By: ZekksGoddess  
**

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, these characters, places, etc do not belong to me. It's all George Lucas's. I did, however, come up with the plot. Yay me.**  
**

**Timeframe: **During Imperial reign, a few months after the events of Cloud City.

**Rating: **PG

**Summary: **Anakin Skywalker has died, and a Dark Lord of the Sith risen in his place. But childhood dreams of an Angel live on.**  
**

**Characters:** Ensign (nameless), Anakin/Vader, Padmé

**Keywords: **angels, light, dark, shadows**  
**

**Genre: **angst, romance, fantasy/supernatural (?)**  
**

**Pairings:** A/P

**AN: **This is an AU of the war between the Empire and the Rebel Alliance. The idea just came to me, kind of suddenly. Hope you enjoy it!

* * *

He was alone. Despite his monstrous size, he was merely a shadow, a phantom of darkness within his own chambers.

The lights remained off. He only left these quarters during dark hours, unless it was deemed necessary, to avoid encountering the light. In a way, he feared it.

He laughed now, at children and the childish fear of the dark. He, himself had been afraid of it once, when he was a very young boy. Now, he realized, it was a foolish thing to be afraid of.

He, himself had become darkness. It was his haven, his protection. He had become deeply immersed in it, so deeply that his great fear had become the light. It shed truth, knowledge…it meant purity. He was none of these, his life composed completely of lies, ignorance and flaws.

Once, many years ago, he had fooled himself into believing he had been part of the light. He had fooled himself into believing he could be good.

The light held the truth and knowledge that could have saved him all those years ago. It had been right there, but he had been blind to it, seduced by easy paths, lies and visions of power. Had he truly been a part of the light, he could have seen what was right there. He could have been salvaged. And, he could have saved her…

A strange sound caught in his throat- a sound somewhere between a cry of rage, despair and heartache.

He had let his guard down for a single, rare moment. Things came flooding back to him, forbidden emotions, memories he'd forced himself to block. Things he'd tried desperately to erase from the most secret depths of his mind.

He collapsed to the cool, durasteel floor, his body weakened by the sudden onslaught. His legs folded beneath him, and he clutched at his masked head with his gloved hands, clawing at the vile thing.

The room was almost empty. There was a bed, of course, against the far wall, and a counter, the drawers beneath it full of dusty, untouched gadgets. The far corner, however, was usually concealed in complete darkness, hidden with shadows so thick, that he could not see his own hand in front of him, even with the superior vision his mask offered.

But tonight, the glow of the stars cast a bright glow through the viewport, illuminating the normally obscure corner with a strange glow. A small durasteel chest glinted through layers of dust.

Impulsively, Vader crept toward it on his hands and knees, like a beast. He'd almost forgotten the chest, and what it held. Almost.

He entered the complex identification code, but that still wasn't enough. This chest held his most cherished secret. It required an offering of blood. Though most of his limbs had become mechanical, he managed, and the chest drawer slid open.

Inside, crimson folds of a velvety material covered the bottom of the drawer. In the very center sat a small box, delicately carved of the finest of wood from Naboo.

He treated the box gently, as though it were more fragile than glass. Slowly, he traced the carvings with a black-clad finger before opening the lid.

He took the holo it contained into his hands. Even in the darkness, it was all too easy to find the 'on' switch.

The soft glow from the holo illuminated the entire room, and he imagined that it were her presence.

_(Are you an angel?)_

His eyes, confined by the mask, could not leave her image. They traced the smooth curves of her figure, glanced at her small, shy smile, and followed the waves of her long, chocolate tresses until finally, the rested on her eyes. They were large, of the deepest brown. He remembered feeling as though he could never look away if he looked for too long…

_(They live on the Moons of Iego, I think. They're the most beautiful creatures in  
the universe.)_

His heart clenched tightly within his chest, until he thought the pain would kill him. His gloved hands clutched at her image, and went right through her. Desperation flooded his senses, longing ensnared him. Rage at losing her took over him.

_(You must be one...maybe you just don't know it.)_

The holo was switched to the 'off' position, and fell into the box unceremoniously as he grieved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Laura-chan:** (hands tissue) Thanks for reading!

**DarthGladiator45: **Thanks for reading...for a warning, it may get angstier in later chapters!;-)

**Shadow131:** Aww, thanks. Glad you liked it!

**AMAPADME: **Thanks! I appreciate your compliments!

* * *

He'd let his guard down that night, the night he'd re-discovered the small chest, the night he'd looked at her holo again. He'd tried so hard to erase her, and anything to do with her from his memory, but, regardless, it had all come flooding back.

Again, he had felt the rage, anger, grief and even fear at losing her. The years had only served to sharpen the emotions, to give them an edge that sank into his heart even deeper.

Vader didn't leave his chambers for nearly five days. The door remained tightly sealed, leaving any passers by completely oblivious to the agony of the man beyond it.

For nearly five days, he imprisoned himself inside, recovering. The sudden attack on his heart had left a strange feeling within him.

Each day, he would stare at the viewport, waiting for the eerie starlight to shine in again, to illuminate the durasteel chest as it had that night. It never happened.

Slowly, Vader came to wonder if it had been a sign. Yes, yes it must have been. It _had_ to have been!

He slept little, but when he did it was filled with dreams of _her._ To anyone else, it would have seemed terrible, their love haunting them in their most vulnerable hour. But Vader welcomed it. He relished even the smallest glimpse of her, the lightest touch against her soft skin, or the faintest aroma of her sweet scent.

By the fifth day, he was convinced. It had been a sign.

When he finally left his chambers, he did so with a strange determination.

His boots touched against the durasteel with a heavy thud as he took each step. It felt as though the joints of his mechanical legs had been frozen, preventing him from moving. But he knew, somehow, that it was just his own impatience.

He was eager, anxious, desperate even. The longer he remained aboard the _Executor_, the more his anxiety grew.

The officers didn't look up from their stations as he passed. Their awe, fear and nervousness were plain through the Force. Another day, he might have laughed at them, enjoying the effect he had, but today he couldn't have cared less.

He halted abruptly at the workstation of Recen Torles, a small, wiry young man of perhaps twenty eight standard years. "Follow me, Ensign."

"S-sir? I'm supposed to stay with m-my station…" The young man's fear at being addressed by Vader, and being instructed to _accompany _him was clear.

"Follow me, Ensign." Vader repeated. He paused slightly before adding, in a lower tone, "There is no time for hesitation."

He turned on his heel, cape snapping behind him. Ensign Torles followed, trembling.

By the time they'd reach the lower levels of the _Executor_, Vader's pace had quickened exceptionally. And still, he could not seem to be going fast enough.

Recen was practically running, doing his best to keep up.

They reached the hangar bay, and Vader stopped, abruptly. Had Recen not grabbed for a nearby crate at the last moment, he would have collided with him. He was thankful he'd avoided the mishap; sweat was already forming on his brow from just being in Vader's company.

Raising a gloved hand, Vader indicated a _Lambda_-class shuttle on the far side of the hangar. "Prep her, and then wait. I will return within half of a standard hour."

Recen nodded. He couldn't hide his relief that he was only to prep a shuttle for him. That was something he could do. After all, his job aboard the _Executor_ was to work with machinery. Not to mention, he would be alone to prep the ship. No Vader.

Ensign Torles was a very fearful young man. His greatest dream was to join the Rebel Alliance, to be reunited with his friends and family-or at least what was left of them. He knew Tej and Reia were still out there, and that they'd joined the Rebellion. He was afraid for them, and a bit envious that they'd had the courage to do what he could not.

His own fear of the Empire still held him aboard the _Executor_, repairing droids.

Footsteps clanked nearby. The twitching returned to Recen's left eye. Vader was returning.

He searched his thoughts for something to calm him; the attempt was futile. He hardly dared to look, and settled for a quick glance out of the corner of his eye.

Vader was carrying something. It was small, swaddled in black cloth and clutched tightly in his arms. He rushed past Recen without a word, disappearing from sight into the other end of the shuttle.

Not long after, he returned to the cockpit where he'd instructed Recen to wait and seated himself in the pilot's seat.

"Strap in." He commanded.

"We're leaving, sir?" Recen asked, mortified. He stood with wide eyes, fear paralyzing him. A strange pressure formed at the base of his skull, and he found himself sitting down just few seconds later.

Hardly ten standard minutes later were they in hyperspace.

Recen couldn't look at the man…if you could call him a man, beside him. He was too afraid.

Perhaps forty standard minutes crept by in lingering silence.

Recen stared out at the frenzied colors of hyperspace. He had no clues to their destination, or what may await him at the end of the journey. He had no clue why _he_, of all people had been chosen to accompany Vader. He had no clue what use he could be. But he did know that he wanted more than anything to be far away from that shuttle, and far, far away from Darth Vader.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** That little reply button is pretty handy. Much easier than writing out all the comments here. : ) And I apologize for my procrastination and downright laziness...it's been nearly a month since I've posted the last chapter! My next chapter will hopefully be longer, and come sooner to make up for everything.

**Chapter Two**

* * *

"Go, stay….go, or stay…"

Seated on the edge of a small cot in one of the shuttle's small compartments, Recen debated his next course of action.

His sleepless night had given him altogether, far too much time to think over his situation. His mind had covered everything from seeking a reason for being chosen to accompany Vader, to memories from his home planet, to hating himself for screwing up his life, and back to seeking a reason he'd been chosen to accompany Vader.

Had he done something wrong? Was the Dark Lord aware of Recen's desire to join the Rebellion? Was it something else?

There were only two ways to find out for sure- wait out the trip and see what happened, or to simply ask Vader.

Logically, the second option would be the better choice- but what was he supposed to do. Just walk right up to one of the post powerful, evil people in the galaxy and start chatting him up about his dream to join his greatest enemies? Recen got the distinct feeling that that was _not_ the best idea.

Gritting his teeth, he stood. There was a good chance he was going to die- and if he was going to die anyway, why waste time being afraid?

By the time he made it to the cockpit, his resolve had disappeared, leaving no trace of having ever been there in the fidgeting form of the young Ensign.

Vader was still there, in the pilot seat. It didn't seem as though he'd moved since ordering Recen to leave him the night before.

Too late to turn back with a good excuse, Recen seated himself in the co-pilot's chair, fidgeting his thumbs.

A long silence lingered within the cockpit. There was no sound but Vader's harsh breathing, and no movement but the nervous twiddling of Recen's hands. The young Imperial felt sure that if his nerves didn't explode first, he'd soon go mad.

"Am…Am I going to die?" The words fled from Recen's mouth in a rush, surprising him. He grimaced, tasting bile as the thought of the Emperor's wicked smile, and the sick joy in his eyes at watching another execution crossed his mind.

For a moment, he'd thought he'd said it too fast- that perhaps his words had been so jumbled that Vader hadn't understood them. The deep, joyless chuckle that followed Recen's thoughts sent chills down his spine.

"Because of your loyalties to the Rebellion?"

Small beads of water began forming on Recen's brow as he nodded. If the truth was already known, there was no sense in denying it. "Y-yes, sir."

There was another long pause, and Recen's left eye resumed the twitch it had developed early the morning before.

"Of course you will die. There's no way for anyone to stop death, though some have undoubtedly tried." Vader's voice was strangely monotone, his helmet never turning from the viewport.

Recen stared at him, his jaw fallen open, unable to speak.

"But no…you are not going to die today. Not by my hand."

Recen's skin had paled so he almost resembled a Wampa from the wastelands of Hoth. He felt light-headed, almost as though he were dreaming. _He wasn't going to die!_

Vaguely, he noticed the tilt of Vader's mask every now and then as the black-clad giant turned to glance at the navicomp, and then the chronometer.

_"There is no time for hesitation."_ Vader had said before. What did it mean?

"You are here, because it will benefit both of us in the end." The sudden interjection startled Recen as they broke into the silence, and the young Ensign wondered briefly if Vader could hear his thoughts.

The words chilled Recen, and any color his face may have regained was quick to disappear again. He hadn't the slightest notion of what they meant. And he wasn't all that sure he wanted to know.

"H-How's that, my lord?" He finally dared to ask.

For a long time it seemed that Vader wasn't going to answer. He sat, still as a statue, facing forward.

Recen looked down at his shaking hands. His heart was pounding so hard within his chest; he thought for sure he would burst. He wanted nothing more than to be _out_ of the shuttle, and far, _far _away from the frightening beast that sat in the seat just next to him.

Darth Vader's voice sounded almost mournful when he spoke again-but in his fright, perhaps he was only imagining things.

"In due time, we will both find out."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three**

_

* * *

_

_He was surprised to find how easy it was to move, no inhibitions, no slow joints…he felt free. _

_His hands touched against loose, comfortable material… the thick, constricting garb he was used to vanished. His fingers reached for his face, and he was dismayed to meet the cool helmet still in place._

_Must he still be tortured? Must even his dreams be hell? Must he be denied any chance of escape, even if it were only temporary?_

_In the corner of his eye, a strange glow began to form. Turning, he saw the golden silhouette of a woman approaching._

_He could feel his hear pounding against his chest; with such magnitude he was sure it would burst free. His eyes, still confined behind the vile mask, followed her, squinting._

_The glow was growing brighter, brighter…it was getting harder to see. He couldn't make out the woman's figure anymore, could hardly tell anyone was there._

_But the light kept coming closer, growing whiter as it came. He could hardly take it anymore, the intense purity of the light. His eyes burned._

_If this were a test for _her_, for Padmé, he was determined to pass it. He'd failed her already, he wouldn't do it again. All the pain in the world wouldn't keep him from that._

_And so the light kept coming._

_He could feel the sweat forming on his face, dripping down. Still, he didn't move. The heat was intense, it was the first time he'd felt it in his dreams before, and he often dreamt of the mysterious woman, and her light._

_Faintly, he could feel something hot dripping onto his chest, sinking through the comfortable clothing he'd discovered himself wearing moments before. The mask- it was melting away! _

_He could feel hot tears streaming from his eyes. Had he passed the test? Was he being rewarded?_

_Suddenly, the heat vanished, the light fading quickly after it. He was standing in the middle of a barren wasteland, amid a freezing temperature that sent a chill down his spine._

_The mask was there, completely intact once more._

_He knew all too well who the woman had been, the glowing beacon. It had been _her_. He didn't understand quite how he knew that, when his dreams had never actually progressed far enough for him to see her, but he knew._

_Anger welled up inside of him, pleading to be set loose. He had been so close. It had been his chance for redemption, his chance to repent the darkness he'd come to know so well, his chance to lose his fear of the light._

_The dream had ended too soon!_

_His fists clenched, his thick, black gloves creaking as he recognized the presence that had entered the dream._

_"What are you up to, my apprentice?" a voice whispered in his mind, reverberating in the barren space he stood in._

* * *

"Lord Vader is no longer aboard the _Executor_, you say?"

"Affirmative, my Lord. He left approximately one standard day ago, and took along Recen Torles, our best droid and computer technician, sir. Their transport is _Lamda_-class shuttle number 643."

Clearly, by the way his thin, pasty lips twisted into a grotesque frown, the Emperor was not pleased with this news. His yellow eyes narrowed.

"That will be all, Commander."

Before the other man could reply, the connection had been ended.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four**

* * *

He'd been so close- _so close!_

For years he'd lived in anguish, in despair- living with the agony of his losses, with the guilt of his actions. And finally, his chance had come. His chance to be forgiven, his chance to cleanse himself- inside and out- of the heinous deeds he'd committed, his chance to be _free_.

And now it was gone.

Anger welled up within him, consumed him. His body shook with rage, his fists clenched.

Around him, the contents of the room shook, flying about and falling, crashing into walls and shattering. The air crackled with intensity.

It had been his chance! His chance for redemption! Had he succeeded, he could have been reunited with _her…_

_Padmé_…

His breathing was heavy, ragged. His tightened muscles relaxed slowly, stretching as he rose from the floor.

He'd been the Emperors puppet for years. He'd lived with the pain, the troubles, the Emperor's wicked ways.

But this time, his Master had stepped in the way- had ruined his chances of ever seeing Padmé again. And that was something he couldn't- _would not_- tolerate.

This time, his _Master_ had reached the final straw.

A deep, rumbling chuckle poured from behind the mask. Yes, Sidious and his twisted ways had no more control over him- the Emperor's reign over Darth Vader had ended.

He would see her again, his angel. And _no one_ would stop him.

She smiled, deactivating her lightsaber with a _hiss_. Three battle droids lay below her, dismembered. Small spars flew from the exposed wires, blasters lay useless. The droids had been damaged beyond repair; there was no hope of patching them together again, even in a very piecemeal fashion.

True enough, battle droids had been outlawed long ago, during the formation of the Empire, but they still served well enough for training sessions.

Her smile widened.

And what a successful training session it had been.

She left the training room with an almost cat-like grace, notifying the cleanup droids to take care of the mess she'd left behind. What she needed now was a nice, relaxing hour in the 'fresher-

She stopped short. Someone was approaching, a member of her crew. Her fluttered shut as she reached out. She could _feel_ his excitement, his rush of adrenaline, as though he were preparing himself for a battle…

"You have news for me, Commander?" She asked, her coy grin like that of a predator. Her fingers slid along the smooth metal of her lightsaber in anticipation.

His face wasn't visible through the mask, but she could sense his willingness to please her. "We've managed to slice their coordinates, and we'll be shifting into hyperspace within moments."

"Thank you, Commander." She responded, dismissing him. Resuming her path to her quarters, she couldn't stop smiling.

Even as she stepped into the shower and felt the warm water cascade over her, washing away the sweat from her training, the smile stayed.

She couldn't help it. This was her chance.

All her life, she'd been trained for a mission like this. Sure, she'd been on missions before but _this_ one… This was the one that she could use to really prove herself.

She was determined to succeed.

She refused to let her Master down.


End file.
